Ginny was bored. That was the only word she could think of to accurately describe this situation. She had dated almost all of the boys in Gryffindor. She had dated a good percentage of the boys in Ravenclaw. She had even dated a few unlikely Hufflepuffs, albeit, later wondering exactly what she had been thinking. Despite this gratuitous dating, absolutely no one had sparked her interest. Sure, many of them had professed their love for her, showered her in flowers and chocolates and the like, but they weren't a challenge. They weren't fun. They were not doing anything that made them worthwhile to her in the long run.
Hell, the best time she'd had in the past six months was when she'd found out that Seamus had been cheating on her.
Repeatedly.
With Dean.
And so, Ginny Weasley resigned herself to give up on boys. Not that she would start going for girls. They'd probably be worse. But if there was one thing that she knew, it was that she was NOT going to stoop as low as to date a Slytherin. There mere thought of Blaise Zabini made her skin crawl. Upon further consideration, she realized that she couldn't decide whether this was because of his chauvinistic arrogance or dashing good looks. Upon even more consideration, she realized that she couldn't decide which was worse, and this made her slightly nervous. But that was just so typical of that house; it was filled with beautiful, manipulative, womanizers. Those who didn't fit into the above category fell into the next – ugly, unintelligent, often incompetent, and spiteful. It was this very assumption, however, that got Ginny in over her head.
Draco Malfoy was quite sure that he'd never seen anything as beautiful as the vision before him. Ginny Weasley had fallen asleep under a tree, and looked nothing short of the goddess of love herself, all long crimson locks and porcelain skin. It was slightly disorienting to see the fiery girl looking this peaceful as she slept, but he found that this look of vulnerability on her face was absolutely appealing to him. In fact, he thought he'd like to wake up and see that exact face in bed next to him one day. Perhaps one day in the near future.
Now, Draco was not as narrow-minded as the masses seemed to think he was. Why should he limit himself by brushing off such a great opportunity as Ginny just because she was friends with Potter, or a member of Gryffindor, or a Weasley? He cared little what the rest of his house had to say on the matter, she was beautiful. And what's more, she had substance beyond her physical attributes, something in low supply in this world as far as he was concerned. Yes, Draco had just realized that an infatuation of epic proportions had grown within him for a certain scarlet-haired Gryffindor. And when Draco set his will on something, he achieved his goal without fail. Plucking a rose off a nearby rosebush and transforming the delicate petals to a silvery hue, he laid it in her hand, careful of the thorns, and walked back up to the castle.